Inner Demons
by Venefica Atra
Summary: Something is keeping Draco up at night. Something is bothering Harry. No one really notices. [On hold] WIP.


Disclaimer: I claim zero, ZERO you hear! It's all JKR's.  
  
Notes: Okay, I'm not quite sure what direction this is going exactly, eventual H/D of course, because I'm obsessed. So. Chapter One. Something is amiss. [03/10/2004 - This is on hold temporarily while I get some of my other WIPs taken care of. I really need to learn to have only one or two going on at a time. ::rolls eyes::]  
  
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Draco Malfoy unconsciously leaned as far back as possible, hearing vertebrae pop in a satisfactory manner and immediately straightened himself. The morning Slytherin banter didn't pause for a beat, no one had noticed his small moment of...Un-Malfoyness, for lack of a better word.  
  
One doesn't go about popping joints in public, he thought, it's barbaric.  
  
Malfoys also do not have early morning conversations with themselves in their heads, he added, shaking his head slightly.  
  
Blaise arched an eyebrow in his direction. Draco just gave him one of the many glares he had filed away. He quickly returned to his conversation with Pansy, but not without a snort that would have translated into "rude bastard."  
  
He wasn't himself of course - he hadn't been sleeping much. He dwelled briefly, wondering how long Blaise had been observing him. He had a lot on his mind, this being his last year at Hogwarts. That wasn't really the problem; he wished he'd stop waking up breathing quickly, obviously panicked, but blank as a bloody slate.  
  
Draco glowered to himself.  
  
"Honestly, Blaise. I don't know what you're going on about," Pansy said. "It's no mystery what Draco is thinking right now." Blaise followed Draco's line of sight, "Yeah, you're right. I'm probably just flipping over NEWTS..."  
  
Draco's eyes swept the Great Hall lazily and settled, a familiar feeling pushing any troublesome thoughts from his mind as his eyes narrowed reflexively.  
  
***  
  
"Harry? Harry. HARRY!"  
  
Green eyes flickered, bright with irritation, "You don't have to shout Ron, I heard you the first time!" Harry Potter returned to his parchment, quill scribbling furiously.  
  
"Then why aren't you paying attention?!" Ron was holding his fork peculiarly with a small strawberry in his other hand.  
  
"I completely forgot about this potions essay after practice last night. You know Snape, he'll go on about how I apparently think I'm too good to take potions seriously, being the -" Harry hunched over and switched to a snarling tone, "Great Harry Potter - and lord it over me for the next three weeks."  
  
"That was great, do it again" Ron played with his fork, having it chase the strawberry, "Besides, the extra practice session was your idea, oh great captain thou art."  
  
Harry, distracted by the odd flashes of silver shooting in and out of his peripheral vision, finally turned towards his best friend. "Do what again? And what the hell are you doing?"  
  
"That great Snape impression. And. Since you're all hopped up on quidditch, it being our last year and all, I thought I'd try to hit you up with some new tactics. This is the snitch." He held up the small strawberry, and then flew the fork around manically, "And this is you."  
  
Harry laughed despite his frazzled state, he gestured to Ron's plate. "Let me guess, that's the Pitch?"  
  
Ron had two sets of three pieces of bacon standing straight up, stuck awkwardly in the scrambled eggs piled on his plate, Harry supposed they represented the quidditch hoops.  
  
Harry paused for a moment, "Hey, where's Mione?"  
  
Ron gave him a disbelieving look, "You're losing your touch Har. NEWTS are looming, for her anyway. For everyone else, they're not for MONTHS. Where do you suppose she's at?"  
  
Harry shook his head, "I don't know why she always goes so mad about this stuff. She got the most OWLS out of everyone here."  
  
"Almost everyone," Ron cut him off. "You know she tied with that git Malfoy, he probably had his bastard of a father buy him a few so he wouldn't be out done by a common muggle."  
  
Harry's thoughts clouded as he and Ron looked across at the Slytherin table. Harry was startled for a moment, unused to seeing the pensive look that seemed to be on Malfoy's face. He turned to Ron to give him a questioning look, but the redhead had returned to flying the strawberry and fork about.  
  
Well he really wasn't always the most observant, Harry pondered and turned back towards Malfoy's direction without really meaning to and met his heated glare.  
  
***  
  
Draco kept his glare locked with Potter's narrowed eyes, like some kind of challenge. Damn if he was going to be the first one to break contact and what the hell was he doing looking in his direction anyway?  
  
He caught a familiar swish of black gliding towards the exit out of the corner of his eye. He watched, and felt, Potter break eye contact and jump slightly. An irritated look flitted over the boy's features as he bent over parchment, all else forgotten.  
  
Draco filed this small victory away unconsciously with a smirk. Then he sighed mentally, he was still feeling a bit off and it was beginning to irritate him.  
  
What the hell is the Weasel doing? He watched the redhead jerk a fork around in the air. Doesn't he have any manners at all? A picture of a rabble of Weasleys crowded around a table reaching all over the place entered his mind. He quickly dismissed the thought, disgusted. He happened to glance at Weasley's plate and realized what was going on.  
  
Quidditch. Draco's silver eyes stormed over again. The first match of the season was a few weeks away, Slytherin vs. Gryffindor of course. It would be the final match between the rival houses. The last chance Draco would have to best his archenemy on the pitch. He fumed inwardly and stood up, perhaps a little too quickly as Pansy and Blaise turned towards his sudden movement, startled.  
  
Draco ignored them and no one else dared look at him, Crabbe and Goyle ate as if nothing unusual was going on. Draco took a moment to admire the control he had over the house and without a word turned to leave.  
  
He needed to clear his head.  
  
***  
  
Harry cursed silently, potions had never been one of his strongest subjects and he'd lost precious minutes he couldn't really spare joking with Ron.  
  
Not to mention glaring at Malfoy, what a waste of energy. He berated himself for getting towed in yet another game with Malfoy, however brief it was. It was all getting rather pointless, this, this rivalry between Malfoy and himself.  
  
Stop wasting your time on Malfoy and concentrate!  
  
It was just his luck Hermione was holed up in the library. He couldn't even coax her into helping him out. Maybe he should pay her a visit...  
  
"Ron, mate, do I spy top secret quidditch plans!" Seamus plopped down rather noisily between Harry and Ron, jostling Harry so his quill slid across his parchment leaving behind a nasty smear.  
  
"Seamus!" The hyperactive boy turned and gave Harry an inquiring look.  
  
Harry didn't even bother explaining and gathered his things; at least it would be much less distracting in the library. Maybe he would run into Hermione as well.  
  
"Don't worry about it Seamus," Harry said finally. "I'll see you guys later in advanced transfiguration."  
  
***  
  
As Harry headed for the library, he couldn't help but notice that it was a really nice day. He gazed wistfully through the corridor windows at the sunlight spilling over the grounds.  
  
Mione probably wouldn't like me barging in on her, he mused. Perhaps he'd get more work done outdoors, and getting some sun would be an added bonus. Morning sun was supposed to be good for you, vitamin D or something like that.  
  
Once outdoors, Harry found himself heading towards the quidditch pitch, a side effect from all the extra practices the team was having. It was a good a place as any, no one would be around and he could find a nice patch of grass...  
  
A shadow passed over him as he hit the edge of the field, breaking his thoughts. Harry shielded his eyes and squinted. Someone was flying around the pitch, apparently letting loose some steam. He looked closer and frowned; there was only one person with hair that shade of blonde.  
  
Malfoy was spinning and diving, oblivious to anything and everything. Harry dropped his things and leaned against the stands and watched. He's really a very good flyer he admitted grudgingly. Of course, he has been flying for ages, as Malfoy always liked to remind him. Harry's eyes darkened briefly.  
  
Malfoy was completely unselfconscious; he had no reason to be, as far as he was concerned, he was the only one there. Harry suddenly felt a bit voyeuristic, watching this private moment, yet he didn't want to be the one to interrupt him either.  
  
It was as if Malfoy was taking a refuge of some sort.  
  
***  
  
Draco felt the air rush over him, warmed by the morning sun. His eyes were closed allowing his other senses to appreciate and translate the pleasure of being free from the ground. Free from anything else that was bothering him.  
  
He opened his eyes and took a sudden spinning dive. He smiled enjoying that familiar tug in his stomach; the beginnings of a game of chicken with gravity. He waited until he could almost count the blades of grass in front of him and pulled up, robes skimming the ground.  
  
Definitely Potter worthy, if not better. He looped his way upwards and cursed. What the hell? He was supposed to be clearing his mind not comparing himself to the Boy Wonder.  
  
Flying was something that Draco took very seriously, and not just because it was another thing he was expected to be good at. It was a way for him to escape reality and to find peace. He felt more at home in the air than anywhere else. It was aggravating that this cherished method of refuge wasn't helping. It was just another example of things out of the ordinary.  
  
He made an angry 180 and noticed a figure leaning against the stands below. Draco glared; no one was supposed to be out here. Fuck, how long have they been there? He zoomed straight towards the figure. How dare someone spy on him.  
  
As he drew closer, there was no mistaking the mop of untidy, black hair.  
  
Draco growled.  
  
***  
  
Harry turned away for a moment, lost in a thought about how he really wished he were flying himself, when he felt the air shift around him. He adjusted his gaze and watched Malfoy land and dismount his broom gracefully. Not a hair out of place, his expensive robes falling around him in perfect order, not one wrinkle.  
  
How the hell does he do that, Harry thought momentarily. Then he noticed Malfoy's white knuckled grip and the angry snarl on his face.  
  
"Potter! Just what the hell do you think you're doing watching me like some sort of... Peeping warlock!"  
  
"Calm down Malfoy, I wasn't here long. How was I supposed to know you had a little air ballet act going on? I was just looking for a place to fini-"  
  
"A what?! Stop trying to be clever. You probably thought you could find something useful for the upcoming match -"  
  
Harry glared at the mention of the impending game, "You're so full of it, and you know that I don't need any help to beat your sorry a-"  
  
"- not giving a damn about someone's privacy." Draco went on, not hearing anything Harry was saying.  
  
Something was clearly going on. Harry took a closer look. Malfoy's face was pink from flying and yes, he was pissed, but his eyes were distracted. He also wasn't paying attention to anything.  
  
"Look, I told you it was an accident," Harry started. "I know I wouldn't want anyone interrupting my solitary flying either... What? What is it?"  
  
Draco was giving Harry a quizzical look. "What? Nothing. Fuck, I don't have TIME for this. You can have the bloody pitch, it's useless with you standing around like you own the place." Draco stormed off, brushing roughly past Harry.  
  
Harry grabbed the stands to maintain his balance, "Fuck you Malfoy!" But the blonde continued to stomp towards the castle.  
  
That spoiled prat, I can't believe I was actually trying to apologize. Harry finally remembered that he had an essay to finish. He glanced at his watch and cursed. He only had forty minutes until transfiguration; he wouldn't have any other time to finish.  
  
He settled into the grass and tried to concentrate. 


End file.
